The War That Never Ends
It didn't matter.
They obeyed.
And that was enough.
Goaty stood beside him, golden fur gleaming under the morning sun.
Ren patted the beast's head.
"You know," he mused, "I was thinking of a name for our new empire."
Goaty let out a soft bleat.
Ren smirked.
"Yeah. 'The Necrodominion' sounds too edgy, huh?"
He turned as the doors behind him creaked open.
Roderic entered, followed by a group of advisors—human, undead, and everything in between.
"My lord," Roderic said, bowing. "The council awaits your command."
Ren exhaled.
No more battles. No more sieges.
Now came the hardest part.
Ruling.
A Throne of Bones and Gold
The royal hall was vast, its marble floors still stained with the blood of the last king.
Ren took his seat upon the throne.
It felt... unnatural.
He had spent so long taking kingdoms. Now, he had to govern one.
The first advisor, an elderly scholar, stepped forward.
"My lord, Ironreach was built on trade. With our siege cutting off supply routes, the people face starvation. We must re-establish commerce."
Ren leaned back.
"Simple. We control the farms now. Sell the food back to the people."
The scholar hesitated. "At what price?"
Ren tapped his fingers on the armrest.
"Enough to make them work for it," he said. "But not enough to make them rebel."
The next advisor, a battle-scarred general, spoke.
"We have deserters in the forests. Former knights, mercenaries. They could cause problems."
Ren's eyes gleamed.
"Send the undead after them. Make an example out of a few."
The general bowed. "As you command."
The next advisor, a woman with cold eyes, stepped forward.
"My lord," she said, "Ironreach is stable—for now. But we rule only this kingdom. The surrounding lands still see us as conquerors."
Ren grinned.
"They'll change their minds."
His fingers drummed against the throne.
"Or we'll change them."
A New Order
Days turned to weeks.
The Necrodominion—as Ren had finally named it, despite Goaty's unimpressed bleat—began to take shape.
Merchants returned.
Cities rebuilt.
And most importantly—no one dared challenge Ren's rule.
Not after what happened to the rebels.
His message had been clear.
Serve.
Or rot.
But still—Ren knew peace was temporary.
New enemies would come.
And when they did…
He would be ready.
Goaty stomped the ground beside him, sparks crackling from his hooves.
Ren chuckled.
"Yeah, buddy. We're just getting started."
---
The throne room of Ironreach was silent, save for the faint crackling of torches along the stone walls.
Ren sat upon his throne, fingers interlaced, watching the group of messengers kneeling before him.
Each bore a different sigil. Each carried a different demand.
And each one was, without a doubt, his enemy.
Goaty stood beside the throne, golden fur gleaming even in the dim light. His eyes, deep pools of intelligence, studied the messengers with something close to amusement.
Ren exhaled.
"Let me guess," he said, his voice smooth but sharp. "You're here to tell me that the neighboring kingdoms do not recognize my rule?"
A man in fine robes, his face pale with fear, swallowed hard before speaking.
"King Ren," he began, "Ironreach may have fallen, but the world does not belong to you."
Ren smiled.
The sheer stupidity of that statement was almost impressive.
He gestured lazily to the room around him.
"Does it not?"
The messenger hesitated.
Ren's army was undefeated. His forces had cut through Ironreach's defenses like a hot knife through butter. And yet, these fools still thought they could negotiate.
Another messenger, this one wearing a breastplate adorned with the sigil of the Velkar Dominion, stepped forward.
"You may have taken one kingdom," he said, "but the Five Lords of Velkar will never kneel."
Ren's smile widened.
The Five Lords.
A coalition of kings and warlords, each ruling a different part of the Velkar Dominion.
A fragmented empire.
One that would burn just as easily as the last.
He rose from his throne, stepping down toward the messengers.
"Ironreach fell in a week," Ren said. "Do you know why?"
The first messenger, the one who had called him 'King Ren,' stayed silent.
Ren continued.
"Because its rulers thought the old ways would protect them. That alliances and trade deals meant something. That I would follow the rules."
He stopped just inches from the Velkar envoy.
"I don't follow rules."
The man in armor clenched his jaw. "Then you are no king."
Ren smirked.
"I never claimed to be."
His hand shot out—faster than a viper.
Before the envoy could react, Ren grabbed his throat, lifting him clean off the ground. The other messengers staggered back in horror.
"You came here thinking you had a choice," Ren said, his voice still calm. "That I would listen. That I would compromise."
The envoy gasped for air, hands clawing at Ren's grip.
"But there's only one truth you need to understand."
Ren's grip tightened.
"You serve."
A sickening crack echoed through the throne room. The envoy's body went limp.
Ren let him drop.
The remaining messengers froze in terror.
Goaty let out a single, amused bleat.
Ren turned to the others.
"Go back to your masters," he said. "Tell them this: The Necrodominion is coming."
One of the messengers scrambled to his feet. "Y-you'll regret this!"
Ren tilted his head.
"Will I?"
The man bolted from the room, the others following close behind.
Ren watched them go, then turned to Roderic, who had been standing by the throne the entire time.
"Prepare the army," Ren said.
Roderic bowed. "At once, my lord."
The war wasn't over.
It had just begun.
March of the Undead
The Necrodominion's forces moved like a storm.
Columns of undead warriors stretched for miles, marching without rest, without food, without fear.
At their head, Ren rode atop Goaty, the golden beast's hooves cracking the earth with every step.
Ahead of them lay the first stronghold of Velkar.
Ren grinned.
One kingdom down.
Five to go.
---
The banners of the Necrodominion fluttered in the cold night air. The siege had begun.
Ren stood atop a hill overlooking the Fortress of Durnholde, the first major obstacle in his path to conquering the Velkar Dominion.